So Don has been yearning for his place in the group…. He tried his hand at money changer…he failed. Not in the changing of money, but in life decisions.
Now when we left, Nick, Dons brother and good friend of mine took me aside and told me to look after Don. He said it in his serious voice, so I know he was worried. I took this responsibility on board, I thought, I've got your back Don. Little did I know about Don's inability to make good life decisions. Example; So we’re in a small town in Cross River state and we need to change money, there is no real tourism industry so much of the money changing is done on the black market… so here’s the story, what part did Don think was a good idea? Walk up to arb guy and say…”hi I need to change money” ; said guy makes a call, makes sure you have the money with you and says, get on my motorbike in this town you don’t know, and where your friends have no idea where you are. So you get on the bike and drive off into the slum area. Guy then says, go through that shop that only stocks hair extensions and gold watches, and you do. Then through the other shop into the alley behind it, out of public sight so it can be a private exchange, where you are met by a group of men to “change money”.
I’m sorry Nick, I will watch Don more closely next time, and he’s been fired from money changing duty. In actual fact he did fine and the guys were just out to change money. He did get a cool motor bike ride though. But if something had gone wrong, how could I explain that to his parents. "Yes Mr Tye I did let Don go with a lot of money into a slum area." "Yes, he did go into the alley," "yes, by himself… No, we didn’t know where he was." "Yes he probably will fetch a high price in the sex trade."
Anyway.. good times all round, life is good, and I really just use this to tease old Don.
Peace.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Don Post 2: Oyibos in Nigeria
My introduction to Nigeria was very much what I had been expecting. An intense, in your face welcome, with border officials trying to get money off us using a few custom made “first time entry costs”. But its not all corruption and bribery here in Nigeria. More often than not people are just keen for a chat, and to welcome us to their country.
Over the last 7 days we have travelled across the southern section of Nigeria, from the border town of Porto Novo (just outside Logos in the west) to the coastal town of Calabar (close to the Cameroon border in the east). Our route has taken us through some of the most heavily populated regions of the country, and with a population of over 150 million, we have realized that there is no such thing as a small town in Nigeria. We entered from Benin through the border at Porto Novo, spent a night in a hotel/brothel (couldn't quite decide what it was), then headed north to avoid the traffic of Lagos. This was a massive failure, because the town of Ibadan (also known as super car city), which we went through to avoid Lagos, has about 3 million people living in it's surrounds. The reason I know this incredible factoid is because we drove behind each of these inhabitants. This meant we lost a day here trying to get through some of the most insane traffic that I have ever driven in, but once though Ibadan, we headed south again and joined the motorway which joins Logos to Benin City. It turned out that four white boys, or 'Oyibos' if you like, staying at a motel along this motorway was big news because we woke-up the next morning to an SSS officer (that’s State Secret Service for those of you not down with the lingo) who had heard that we were arrived the night before. He thought we were completely ignorant about Nigeria, and wanted to know why we were travelling without a police convoy if we were not 'agents'. Not the sort of thing you want to hear on the second night in a country, but after he checked out all our passports and visas he seemed to be more relaxed and was actually a really good guy. We exchanged details with him and then headed east towards Okumo National Park which was first on our list of parks to be mapped.
Okumo is a rain forest reserve, a first for us so we were all keen to check it out. The list of birds and mammals for the park is impressive, but whether or not all of these are still found in the park seems very unlikely. The forest itself is amazing, with trees more than 40m tall in every direction. This makes it difficult to see much in terms of wildlife. Being in a tropical forest is awesome though, and something that I have always wanted to see. Driving on the overgrown tracks seems surreal at times, and you have to keep reminding yourself that this is the real deal.
I have started to get some good stuff on my bird list which I will present to Nick and Marco when I get back in a more formal setting – maybe a short film, I haven't decided yet. After 2 nights in Okumo, we headed east again towards Benin, and then on towards Calabar. This route of about 500 km took us 2 days because of the bad roads, traffic and road blocks. In one section of about 150km, we counted 33 road blocks, and got stopped at about 25 of them. Most of the time the guys are just interested in what we doing, but the phrase “what do you have for me” does get a bit old after a while. Nothing that a classic smile or an ignorant facial expression couldn't get us through though. Another strategy is to bombard the guys with questions as soon as they come to the car window - “Is this the route to Calabar?”, “How far is Oweiri?”, “Did you what the world cup?” “What do you think of my beard?”, “Do you agree Chris is gay?”. All of these seemed to work well, especially the last one, where they would agree profusely, give me a high five and wave me on my way.
Unlike road blocks in South Africa, we have never been asked if we have been drinking. We have however been offered alcohol, and asked for drugs. But so far we have had not real problems and have paid no bribes, so I won't rant anymore.
People along the way are all really stoked to see tourists. A stop at any village or market usually begins with a couple people walking over to shake your hand and say “well welcome”. We have heard a couple names for white person being used along the way, but 'Oyibo' seems the most popular. Everybody from kids to cops shout it out as you drive past. My personal favourite however was when a guy called me “Mr. White” when we were walking through town. Chris was just “White”. Calabar is a completely different town compared to everything else we have driven through in Nigeria. The state of Cross River, where Calabar is situated, seems to be on top of things compared to the other southern states we have crossed. Closed drains, clean roads, and working lights make the town look a bit out of place in Nigeria, and it it clearly geared up for tourists judging by the number of hotels and guest houses around. We did some food shopping at the local markets and managed to buy the biggest pineapple I have ever seen, and a vest (white cotton – classic). The pineapple was as big as a water melon, but with no sacrifice whatsoever to the flavour ! Unbelievable I know, but believe it. We ended up staying an extra night in Calabar because of car trouble which saw Greg spending the day under the car, but seeing as it was Sebaz's birthday, we took the opportunity to check out Calabar's nightlife. It turned out to be a mad night after we were adopted by a group of local politicians who were staying at our guest house. Being South African was a big hit and they ended up taking us out for fish and beers, and then to some bars where I showed them that white men can dance, but rhythm is overrated. The best part of the evening came when Chris was cut short by our drunk host, Mr. Ouche, who interrupted Chris mid sentence with simple phase “lets enjoy old school”, and then cranked up the radio to full, playing Micheal Jackson's “Blame it on the boogie”. That's where I'm going to stop now.
Running a couple days behind with this blog but this is getting too long now. Stay tuned for some some more tropical times when we start heading north, and look out for handy tips on how to get by when you are camping in a rain forest. Don
Over the last 7 days we have travelled across the southern section of Nigeria, from the border town of Porto Novo (just outside Logos in the west) to the coastal town of Calabar (close to the Cameroon border in the east). Our route has taken us through some of the most heavily populated regions of the country, and with a population of over 150 million, we have realized that there is no such thing as a small town in Nigeria. We entered from Benin through the border at Porto Novo, spent a night in a hotel/brothel (couldn't quite decide what it was), then headed north to avoid the traffic of Lagos. This was a massive failure, because the town of Ibadan (also known as super car city), which we went through to avoid Lagos, has about 3 million people living in it's surrounds. The reason I know this incredible factoid is because we drove behind each of these inhabitants. This meant we lost a day here trying to get through some of the most insane traffic that I have ever driven in, but once though Ibadan, we headed south again and joined the motorway which joins Logos to Benin City. It turned out that four white boys, or 'Oyibos' if you like, staying at a motel along this motorway was big news because we woke-up the next morning to an SSS officer (that’s State Secret Service for those of you not down with the lingo) who had heard that we were arrived the night before. He thought we were completely ignorant about Nigeria, and wanted to know why we were travelling without a police convoy if we were not 'agents'. Not the sort of thing you want to hear on the second night in a country, but after he checked out all our passports and visas he seemed to be more relaxed and was actually a really good guy. We exchanged details with him and then headed east towards Okumo National Park which was first on our list of parks to be mapped.
Okumo is a rain forest reserve, a first for us so we were all keen to check it out. The list of birds and mammals for the park is impressive, but whether or not all of these are still found in the park seems very unlikely. The forest itself is amazing, with trees more than 40m tall in every direction. This makes it difficult to see much in terms of wildlife. Being in a tropical forest is awesome though, and something that I have always wanted to see. Driving on the overgrown tracks seems surreal at times, and you have to keep reminding yourself that this is the real deal.
I have started to get some good stuff on my bird list which I will present to Nick and Marco when I get back in a more formal setting – maybe a short film, I haven't decided yet. After 2 nights in Okumo, we headed east again towards Benin, and then on towards Calabar. This route of about 500 km took us 2 days because of the bad roads, traffic and road blocks. In one section of about 150km, we counted 33 road blocks, and got stopped at about 25 of them. Most of the time the guys are just interested in what we doing, but the phrase “what do you have for me” does get a bit old after a while. Nothing that a classic smile or an ignorant facial expression couldn't get us through though. Another strategy is to bombard the guys with questions as soon as they come to the car window - “Is this the route to Calabar?”, “How far is Oweiri?”, “Did you what the world cup?” “What do you think of my beard?”, “Do you agree Chris is gay?”. All of these seemed to work well, especially the last one, where they would agree profusely, give me a high five and wave me on my way.
Unlike road blocks in South Africa, we have never been asked if we have been drinking. We have however been offered alcohol, and asked for drugs. But so far we have had not real problems and have paid no bribes, so I won't rant anymore.
People along the way are all really stoked to see tourists. A stop at any village or market usually begins with a couple people walking over to shake your hand and say “well welcome”. We have heard a couple names for white person being used along the way, but 'Oyibo' seems the most popular. Everybody from kids to cops shout it out as you drive past. My personal favourite however was when a guy called me “Mr. White” when we were walking through town. Chris was just “White”. Calabar is a completely different town compared to everything else we have driven through in Nigeria. The state of Cross River, where Calabar is situated, seems to be on top of things compared to the other southern states we have crossed. Closed drains, clean roads, and working lights make the town look a bit out of place in Nigeria, and it it clearly geared up for tourists judging by the number of hotels and guest houses around. We did some food shopping at the local markets and managed to buy the biggest pineapple I have ever seen, and a vest (white cotton – classic). The pineapple was as big as a water melon, but with no sacrifice whatsoever to the flavour ! Unbelievable I know, but believe it. We ended up staying an extra night in Calabar because of car trouble which saw Greg spending the day under the car, but seeing as it was Sebaz's birthday, we took the opportunity to check out Calabar's nightlife. It turned out to be a mad night after we were adopted by a group of local politicians who were staying at our guest house. Being South African was a big hit and they ended up taking us out for fish and beers, and then to some bars where I showed them that white men can dance, but rhythm is overrated. The best part of the evening came when Chris was cut short by our drunk host, Mr. Ouche, who interrupted Chris mid sentence with simple phase “lets enjoy old school”, and then cranked up the radio to full, playing Micheal Jackson's “Blame it on the boogie”. That's where I'm going to stop now.
Running a couple days behind with this blog but this is getting too long now. Stay tuned for some some more tropical times when we start heading north, and look out for handy tips on how to get by when you are camping in a rain forest. Don
Chris Post 4: Roadblocks
So the road from Port Novou across the southern limit of Nigeria to Calabar is apparently not the safest of the planet, especially near Port Harcourt where there are kidnappings etc… So , in response to this danger, the Nigerian government has set up roadblocks. Not just one or two, I think that there should be another 's' on road blocks, to emphasize the plural nature. And we get stopped at just about every single one.
So we all have our own particular technique for road block time, and it all depends on the colour of the uniform, the presence of a spiked barrier and more importantly, does he have a gun, generally in the form of a short butt AK47. So we stop a lot and being endowed with a generous ability to talk shit, and a penchant for arguments, I’ve taken it as my personal mission to get my way through all of them without paying a bribe. In fact, we all have, “no bribes for you Mr Officer, but you can have this argument instead”.
So as for the different techniques, Don goes with the bombardment approach, it's affective and hilarious to watch. He also tries humour sometimes, that doesn’t seem to work. Greg and C-baz often do the “don’t actually stop” technique, and if you are stopped, Greg whips of his mosquito bangle and swaps it out for his license or just dangles it to distract the guy while he makes a getaway. I go with the argument approach, overwhelm him with forms and stamps and officianado until they are so confused that they wave you on.
Each has a pro and con, they work differently for different groups… but here are some of the things I have learned from the hundred and fifty or so road blocks we have negotiated.
1. If they take your forms to ‘the Madame” you are going to be there a while. Madame is generally a lady in a car, listening to the radio who won’t speak to you directly. Madame is official, you are not and so you argue as a third party. Its quite fun actually.
2. Stamps, stamps stamps…. Have stamps on everything, even if they are your own stamp.
3. Never take the contrary position. For instance, when the VIO and you are engaged in an argument about how you were not wearing your seatbelt. ( I was in fact wearing said belt and after nothing could be shown wrong with the car I was simply declared not to be wearing the belt) you never answer anything in direct contradiction. Rather one up the guy. So when he say’s “I swear in front of God, that you were not wearing a belt, are you calling me a liar?”, don’t answer “Yes”, rather say something like “But I swear in front of God that I was, so how can God be wrong?”. That seems to work.
4. Raising your voice is fine, especially in the South, Yoruba and Ibo people are very loud and its appreciated to be loud back. No ones angry, It's just like Portugal, we shout our hellos, our goodbyes and our “no I’m not paying this fine, I’ll go with you to Abuja if you need to speak to someone more senior”.
5. Pointing out the obvious is not going to help. C-baz enjoys this one, like when we are pulled over for overloading a one tone vehicle with about 300kg of stuff all fastened securely and in a set up designed for just such transport. C-baz will point out every car going past and ask, but what about them? And them? And them? Its hilarious watch. But the answer is great, they’ll look plainly at him and say “but we can’t stop them all”.
6. Being a South African brother is always good. Same blood, same team, same continent, same whatever it takes…Greg has been known to shout “Not white man, African!”, its pretty good.
7. Young guys and Mirror shades are not good.
8. Obvious things may not seem obvious. For instance at the end of a 100km stretch with over 33 roadblocks, the last guys will ask you, in full view of the last roadblock 1km behind you. “Do you know you are driving a right hand drive car…we don’t allow those in Nigeria”, he will say it with disgust, like he just caught you looking at pornography involving Nataniel. What?..right hand drive, when did that happen?, Don, did you change the steering again? , Officer I am so happy you noticed, the other hundred officers just didn’t pick up on it and here we are driving a right hand drive car”. No, rather start at the beginning and explain like it’s the first time you have. Insisting that you have permission and showing off your customs stamps.
Uniforms are important, there are green ones (Customs) , black ones (Police), grey ones (not sure but we think highway patrol), Black and white ones (Vehicle inspection officers), makeshift ones (SARS..we think, no idea what, we just drive for them), there are the camouflage ones (Military) and then there are our favourite…. When we see them on the road we let out a groan and get the forms ready. The red hat and black and tan uniform of Federal Road safety. And when they see us, they grin and think, here comes Christmas. “No sir, I do not need a permit to carry a securely fastened tyre my roof, please show me the fine in your book”. Now why the pretense? Why do they pretend we have committed an offence and we pretend like we didn’t and we don’t know what’s going on. Rather be honest, just say “hey guys, we’re going to keep you here till you give us some cash”, and we’ll say, “no guys, you aren’t”. Then we can have a arm wrestle or spitting contest or chess game or something to settle it.
But that said, its actually pretty good fun. Of the hundred and fifty odd roads blocks we’ve passed, most of the guys just want a chat, to find out where you are from, shake your hand and say welcome. If you drive windows down, disassociated from Nigeria, I think many of the rumours would seem true. But, if you smile, and chat and get out and take your time to meet people, like all us good Africans should anyway. You meet Abo, the man who wants me to send him a vuvuzela… if he mails me, I swear I will. You meet Benjamin Coti, a young Ghanain chap interested in the natural world. The cops are regular guys, doing a regular if not different job…and once you’re used to it, we’re all the same in the end I suppose.
So we all have our own particular technique for road block time, and it all depends on the colour of the uniform, the presence of a spiked barrier and more importantly, does he have a gun, generally in the form of a short butt AK47. So we stop a lot and being endowed with a generous ability to talk shit, and a penchant for arguments, I’ve taken it as my personal mission to get my way through all of them without paying a bribe. In fact, we all have, “no bribes for you Mr Officer, but you can have this argument instead”.
So as for the different techniques, Don goes with the bombardment approach, it's affective and hilarious to watch. He also tries humour sometimes, that doesn’t seem to work. Greg and C-baz often do the “don’t actually stop” technique, and if you are stopped, Greg whips of his mosquito bangle and swaps it out for his license or just dangles it to distract the guy while he makes a getaway. I go with the argument approach, overwhelm him with forms and stamps and officianado until they are so confused that they wave you on.
Each has a pro and con, they work differently for different groups… but here are some of the things I have learned from the hundred and fifty or so road blocks we have negotiated.
1. If they take your forms to ‘the Madame” you are going to be there a while. Madame is generally a lady in a car, listening to the radio who won’t speak to you directly. Madame is official, you are not and so you argue as a third party. Its quite fun actually.
2. Stamps, stamps stamps…. Have stamps on everything, even if they are your own stamp.
3. Never take the contrary position. For instance, when the VIO and you are engaged in an argument about how you were not wearing your seatbelt. ( I was in fact wearing said belt and after nothing could be shown wrong with the car I was simply declared not to be wearing the belt) you never answer anything in direct contradiction. Rather one up the guy. So when he say’s “I swear in front of God, that you were not wearing a belt, are you calling me a liar?”, don’t answer “Yes”, rather say something like “But I swear in front of God that I was, so how can God be wrong?”. That seems to work.
4. Raising your voice is fine, especially in the South, Yoruba and Ibo people are very loud and its appreciated to be loud back. No ones angry, It's just like Portugal, we shout our hellos, our goodbyes and our “no I’m not paying this fine, I’ll go with you to Abuja if you need to speak to someone more senior”.
5. Pointing out the obvious is not going to help. C-baz enjoys this one, like when we are pulled over for overloading a one tone vehicle with about 300kg of stuff all fastened securely and in a set up designed for just such transport. C-baz will point out every car going past and ask, but what about them? And them? And them? Its hilarious watch. But the answer is great, they’ll look plainly at him and say “but we can’t stop them all”.
6. Being a South African brother is always good. Same blood, same team, same continent, same whatever it takes…Greg has been known to shout “Not white man, African!”, its pretty good.
7. Young guys and Mirror shades are not good.
8. Obvious things may not seem obvious. For instance at the end of a 100km stretch with over 33 roadblocks, the last guys will ask you, in full view of the last roadblock 1km behind you. “Do you know you are driving a right hand drive car…we don’t allow those in Nigeria”, he will say it with disgust, like he just caught you looking at pornography involving Nataniel. What?..right hand drive, when did that happen?, Don, did you change the steering again? , Officer I am so happy you noticed, the other hundred officers just didn’t pick up on it and here we are driving a right hand drive car”. No, rather start at the beginning and explain like it’s the first time you have. Insisting that you have permission and showing off your customs stamps.
Uniforms are important, there are green ones (Customs) , black ones (Police), grey ones (not sure but we think highway patrol), Black and white ones (Vehicle inspection officers), makeshift ones (SARS..we think, no idea what, we just drive for them), there are the camouflage ones (Military) and then there are our favourite…. When we see them on the road we let out a groan and get the forms ready. The red hat and black and tan uniform of Federal Road safety. And when they see us, they grin and think, here comes Christmas. “No sir, I do not need a permit to carry a securely fastened tyre my roof, please show me the fine in your book”. Now why the pretense? Why do they pretend we have committed an offence and we pretend like we didn’t and we don’t know what’s going on. Rather be honest, just say “hey guys, we’re going to keep you here till you give us some cash”, and we’ll say, “no guys, you aren’t”. Then we can have a arm wrestle or spitting contest or chess game or something to settle it.
But that said, its actually pretty good fun. Of the hundred and fifty odd roads blocks we’ve passed, most of the guys just want a chat, to find out where you are from, shake your hand and say welcome. If you drive windows down, disassociated from Nigeria, I think many of the rumours would seem true. But, if you smile, and chat and get out and take your time to meet people, like all us good Africans should anyway. You meet Abo, the man who wants me to send him a vuvuzela… if he mails me, I swear I will. You meet Benjamin Coti, a young Ghanain chap interested in the natural world. The cops are regular guys, doing a regular if not different job…and once you’re used to it, we’re all the same in the end I suppose.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Chris Post 3: Rainforests and rashes
So we’ve finished the rainforest section of Nigeria. We’ve been on the road and had little power or chance to write. My clothes smell sour, I’m covered in bites and a rash… Its been incredible.
When I was a kid, I watched every documentary available, Sunday night double hitter was my thing and I sat amazed at images of the wild world in which we live. Standing atop a 40m Ceiba tree looking down on the mist covered rainforest as the sun rose, I half expected the ever respectful whisper of David Attenborough to come piping from behind me and say something poignant like “the Picathertes is a bird like no other… eking out its existence on islands of rock in a sea of Forest”. But David didn’t speak to me and we were in fact sitting on the edge of a clearing watching Great blue turacos kok-kok-call to one another, and catching glimpses of untold numbers of other birds flitting through the undergrowth. On the drive back a red flanked duiker broke cover, a flash of russet before being reclaimed by the undergrowth. Its dark, its dense, its wet and you have to machete your way through….its incredible. Signs of elephant, droppings of forest buffalo, Mona monkeys scattering making the tell tale bark and the dancing of leaves. We’ve seen black and white Colobus on the Cameroonian border, Mona’s and Olive baboons, Putty nosed monkeys with their caught with their face in the sugar jar nose. We’ve walked in areas looking for wild chimp populations, and sat mesmerized at the largest roosting spot of swallows in west Africa. Nearly a million of these small birds come plummeting out of the sky into the grass, it literally rains birds, an awe inspiring sight. We’ve been to 5 parks which concentrate on forest conservation now. Okumo, cross River South, Rhoko Forest, Afi Mountain Sanctuary and Cross River North. We have then also been to Gashaka Gumpti, a savanna-Forest park in the hills on the Cameroonian border. All of them are incredibly beautiful, but all of them are seriously threatened. That’ll be the topic of another blog I’m sure, but right now I’m still trying to get rid of the multiple rashes I managed to get in my short time in the forests. The rainforests are set up for trekking, not driving. Trails often need to be re-cut and a machete or “cutlass” will be swung by your guide as he blazes a trail through the undergrowth. Its great fun, pre dawn, finding your way through the forest, super lost, following a man chopping his way through, everything wet, and your shirt soaked with sweat. Nigerian hospitality is such that its very difficult to convince the guides that you want to try a bit of machete wielding yourself, but its harder that they make it look. They chopped roads clear for our cars and we chopped paths clear for ourselves. Wonderful times. We’ve been on night walks looking for Potto ( a slow moving arboreal primate, weird looking thing), we saw different species of galago an listened to tree hyrax barking. We swim in streams in all the parks, and camp in the undergrowth. It reminds me of the trips I used to take with my uncle Mike when I was younger…looking for crocodiles before we swim, sleeping under trees in the bush. Rainforests themselves are incredible, the rashes are not. For some reason I seem to attract insects and bites. Don doesn’t, neither do C-baz or Greg. I bet David Attenborough did though. “Rashes” I can here him say, “are the ever present companion of the forest dweller, eking out there existence on islands of unsuspecting tourists in a sea of forest”. (By island of tourists, I may mean my nether regions). But we’re back in savannahs now, the comforting heat and the call of the scops owl. Too many sights to relay, too many images to conjure up. Its been a trip, these last three weeks…its been a trip
When I was a kid, I watched every documentary available, Sunday night double hitter was my thing and I sat amazed at images of the wild world in which we live. Standing atop a 40m Ceiba tree looking down on the mist covered rainforest as the sun rose, I half expected the ever respectful whisper of David Attenborough to come piping from behind me and say something poignant like “the Picathertes is a bird like no other… eking out its existence on islands of rock in a sea of Forest”. But David didn’t speak to me and we were in fact sitting on the edge of a clearing watching Great blue turacos kok-kok-call to one another, and catching glimpses of untold numbers of other birds flitting through the undergrowth. On the drive back a red flanked duiker broke cover, a flash of russet before being reclaimed by the undergrowth. Its dark, its dense, its wet and you have to machete your way through….its incredible. Signs of elephant, droppings of forest buffalo, Mona monkeys scattering making the tell tale bark and the dancing of leaves. We’ve seen black and white Colobus on the Cameroonian border, Mona’s and Olive baboons, Putty nosed monkeys with their caught with their face in the sugar jar nose. We’ve walked in areas looking for wild chimp populations, and sat mesmerized at the largest roosting spot of swallows in west Africa. Nearly a million of these small birds come plummeting out of the sky into the grass, it literally rains birds, an awe inspiring sight. We’ve been to 5 parks which concentrate on forest conservation now. Okumo, cross River South, Rhoko Forest, Afi Mountain Sanctuary and Cross River North. We have then also been to Gashaka Gumpti, a savanna-Forest park in the hills on the Cameroonian border. All of them are incredibly beautiful, but all of them are seriously threatened. That’ll be the topic of another blog I’m sure, but right now I’m still trying to get rid of the multiple rashes I managed to get in my short time in the forests. The rainforests are set up for trekking, not driving. Trails often need to be re-cut and a machete or “cutlass” will be swung by your guide as he blazes a trail through the undergrowth. Its great fun, pre dawn, finding your way through the forest, super lost, following a man chopping his way through, everything wet, and your shirt soaked with sweat. Nigerian hospitality is such that its very difficult to convince the guides that you want to try a bit of machete wielding yourself, but its harder that they make it look. They chopped roads clear for our cars and we chopped paths clear for ourselves. Wonderful times. We’ve been on night walks looking for Potto ( a slow moving arboreal primate, weird looking thing), we saw different species of galago an listened to tree hyrax barking. We swim in streams in all the parks, and camp in the undergrowth. It reminds me of the trips I used to take with my uncle Mike when I was younger…looking for crocodiles before we swim, sleeping under trees in the bush. Rainforests themselves are incredible, the rashes are not. For some reason I seem to attract insects and bites. Don doesn’t, neither do C-baz or Greg. I bet David Attenborough did though. “Rashes” I can here him say, “are the ever present companion of the forest dweller, eking out there existence on islands of unsuspecting tourists in a sea of forest”. (By island of tourists, I may mean my nether regions). But we’re back in savannahs now, the comforting heat and the call of the scops owl. Too many sights to relay, too many images to conjure up. Its been a trip, these last three weeks…its been a trip
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Chris Post 2 -
Negotiating the intricacies of the Dollar-Naira exchange rate with part time prostitutes at a seedy road bar on the outskirts of Lagos is never something I had on my list of things to do; but there we were…
As you get into Nigeria you can feel the vibe change; from the peaceful tranquility of Benin to an incredibly aggressive and in your face presence. Men with Ak47’s and mirror shades in green fatigues, black fatigues and grey seem to scowl at you as they wave you over an peer into the back of your vehicle. The gun toting man looks over at his bleary eyed superior and some kind of gesture is made, a wide beautiful smile cracks the stone sour face “You are welcome” as a hand of friendship is offered. Man I am loving Nigeria! This is not the kind of place to recoil or back off, this is the place to barrel head long into the throng, into the street and into the people, the beautiful aggressively friendly people!
We left Ghana a via the Keta wetland (pronounced “Ket-ah”), a RAMSAR site of importance to migrating birds, it is a huge wetland complex rich in habitat for waders and supports a large number of people. We observed a lot of harvesting of the sedges and grasses in the wetland giving the area an interesting patchwork appearance. The wetland is a sight to behold, but unfortunately there is just no access. Although not really a designated protected area the Keta wetland provides an important migratory path and provides the potential for possibly lucrative ecotourism ventures. We followed the ecotourism signs, we looked for the bird viewing platforms, we asked around. But we found none.
Since then we have been crossing the country Of Nigeria. Its been slow going. The last few days I have passed over one hundred and fifty road blocks, I have showed my passport, car papers, all the drivers licenses I have, all the papers, carnets, and broken out my god-given-gift of talking shit. I have talked about South Africa, I argue with being called Oyibo ( “white”) and strongly tell people I am of the same blood, that of Africa. By the end of your day your hand is a grease pool from the dozens of hand shakes and your cheeks are sore from the smiles. On one section you can actually see the next road block from the one you are stopped at. But all in all most of the guys just want to chat, and see where you are from. Being South African is a huge help, so much so that Sebastian our thick accented German is now South African too, we have a flag in our window, next the Ghana and Nigerian ones and we generally get through with a bit of a joke and a laugh. What a crazy place; I’ve been offered booze by cops, driven on the wrong side of the highway for long stretches, dodging oncoming cars, and eaten freshly killed chicken on the side of the highway in the Niger Delta, grilled to death with an ice cold coke. Although tourism is an anomaly here, we are generally welcomed…Life is good.
Park wise we are not moving fast, distances take a long time, 11 hours to get 380km yesterday. You just never speed up and you hit markets. Road blocks and traffic. Traffic like I have never seen before, I suppose it's a lot like much of the heat, two stroke engines burn a thick blue smoke into the air. But we have made it to Okumo, an incredible place I will write a section about just for itself.
On a personal note, I have seen that Don has been slandering me on the online blog…. That’s ok. All I can say is what is Don’s position on the trip? We have C-Baz the surgeon, chief negotiator and overall ladies man. We have Greg the chief mechanic, we have me the PR officer and spatial data expert lu extroadinaire and French student. Don… um.. ja, we have Don.
Enough said.
Peace. Chris
As you get into Nigeria you can feel the vibe change; from the peaceful tranquility of Benin to an incredibly aggressive and in your face presence. Men with Ak47’s and mirror shades in green fatigues, black fatigues and grey seem to scowl at you as they wave you over an peer into the back of your vehicle. The gun toting man looks over at his bleary eyed superior and some kind of gesture is made, a wide beautiful smile cracks the stone sour face “You are welcome” as a hand of friendship is offered. Man I am loving Nigeria! This is not the kind of place to recoil or back off, this is the place to barrel head long into the throng, into the street and into the people, the beautiful aggressively friendly people!
We left Ghana a via the Keta wetland (pronounced “Ket-ah”), a RAMSAR site of importance to migrating birds, it is a huge wetland complex rich in habitat for waders and supports a large number of people. We observed a lot of harvesting of the sedges and grasses in the wetland giving the area an interesting patchwork appearance. The wetland is a sight to behold, but unfortunately there is just no access. Although not really a designated protected area the Keta wetland provides an important migratory path and provides the potential for possibly lucrative ecotourism ventures. We followed the ecotourism signs, we looked for the bird viewing platforms, we asked around. But we found none.
Since then we have been crossing the country Of Nigeria. Its been slow going. The last few days I have passed over one hundred and fifty road blocks, I have showed my passport, car papers, all the drivers licenses I have, all the papers, carnets, and broken out my god-given-gift of talking shit. I have talked about South Africa, I argue with being called Oyibo ( “white”) and strongly tell people I am of the same blood, that of Africa. By the end of your day your hand is a grease pool from the dozens of hand shakes and your cheeks are sore from the smiles. On one section you can actually see the next road block from the one you are stopped at. But all in all most of the guys just want to chat, and see where you are from. Being South African is a huge help, so much so that Sebastian our thick accented German is now South African too, we have a flag in our window, next the Ghana and Nigerian ones and we generally get through with a bit of a joke and a laugh. What a crazy place; I’ve been offered booze by cops, driven on the wrong side of the highway for long stretches, dodging oncoming cars, and eaten freshly killed chicken on the side of the highway in the Niger Delta, grilled to death with an ice cold coke. Although tourism is an anomaly here, we are generally welcomed…Life is good.
Park wise we are not moving fast, distances take a long time, 11 hours to get 380km yesterday. You just never speed up and you hit markets. Road blocks and traffic. Traffic like I have never seen before, I suppose it's a lot like much of the heat, two stroke engines burn a thick blue smoke into the air. But we have made it to Okumo, an incredible place I will write a section about just for itself.
On a personal note, I have seen that Don has been slandering me on the online blog…. That’s ok. All I can say is what is Don’s position on the trip? We have C-Baz the surgeon, chief negotiator and overall ladies man. We have Greg the chief mechanic, we have me the PR officer and spatial data expert lu extroadinaire and French student. Don… um.. ja, we have Don.
Enough said.
Peace. Chris
Chris (Better than Don and C-Baz) Barichievy - Post 1
The air fought against my lungs with viscous arms, hot and humid. My shirt sweat-soaked in the dark and dank of the underground. Over a hundred men were held in that tiny room, weak, suffering men whose abduction and detention only ended with a life of subjugation. The infamous gate of no return weighs heavily on you as you look out through it and see the ocean. 12-25 million West Africans were taken across an ocean no different from cattle, branded , shackled and packed like books on shelves in the bowels of ships…Never again ( insert quote) is etched in marble on the wall…Never again, we vow.
The cape coast fortress is a somber place, if there was ever a reason to hate slavery would be it. Walking among the remnants of imperialism brings with it a deep sadness and acknowledgment of the creased foreheads and exasperated gasps of local visitors, who in another time may have been there under very different circumstances. But despite the slavery, despite the history of fighting, the Portuguese, the Swedes and the British, the most common phrase I have heard in my time here is “You are welcome” “Akwaaba”, followed by “we are the same blood” upon hearing I’m South African.
I hadn’t done much research on Ghana and was told two things before I came here, first, that it is a land of friendly people, and second that the beaches were great. It was pronounced by a french man and so I thought he’d said “Bitches”; he is right on both counts I suppose. In Accra I was bathed in the beautiful smiles from women with heavenly bodies. Disco lights and cold star beer help you get used to the lack of body space as you move from sweaty embrace to sweaty embrace. You spent a lot of effort trying very hard to keep up with the panoply of gyrations and undulations going on with their hips that you seem not to have been given in the womb, never mind taught how to use. I lost Sebastian at some point, but what a party; stumbling home through a slum area at 3 in the morning by myself after my taxi drove into a ditch I eventually found my room, my mosquito net and my early wake up call from March… although for a while I did contemplate curling up next to one of the homeless chaps who I chatted t for a bit…welcome to the MAPA project!
We got the cars, two beautiful lands cruisers… I’m in the old girl, the big petrol guzzling beast, which when she changes into third you can feel the planet warm up, but what power! We are now learned scholars of satellite modems and have looked for spark plugs and shopped, packed and repacked. We met the last crews, full of knowledge and advice, hopefully in 12 weeks I’ll be handing over with similar nostalgia and just as many stories. The last two days have been a bit of fun, getting used to the cars and finding our feet, our plan and our supplies. After hearing the stories from Mike and Mark we’re in for one hell of a ride! Ghana has given us a welcome and warm reception, we’re happy and raring to get some mapping started, so here we go off to map wild areas in African hinterland…life couldn’t be better.
The cape coast fortress is a somber place, if there was ever a reason to hate slavery would be it. Walking among the remnants of imperialism brings with it a deep sadness and acknowledgment of the creased foreheads and exasperated gasps of local visitors, who in another time may have been there under very different circumstances. But despite the slavery, despite the history of fighting, the Portuguese, the Swedes and the British, the most common phrase I have heard in my time here is “You are welcome” “Akwaaba”, followed by “we are the same blood” upon hearing I’m South African.
I hadn’t done much research on Ghana and was told two things before I came here, first, that it is a land of friendly people, and second that the beaches were great. It was pronounced by a french man and so I thought he’d said “Bitches”; he is right on both counts I suppose. In Accra I was bathed in the beautiful smiles from women with heavenly bodies. Disco lights and cold star beer help you get used to the lack of body space as you move from sweaty embrace to sweaty embrace. You spent a lot of effort trying very hard to keep up with the panoply of gyrations and undulations going on with their hips that you seem not to have been given in the womb, never mind taught how to use. I lost Sebastian at some point, but what a party; stumbling home through a slum area at 3 in the morning by myself after my taxi drove into a ditch I eventually found my room, my mosquito net and my early wake up call from March… although for a while I did contemplate curling up next to one of the homeless chaps who I chatted t for a bit…welcome to the MAPA project!
We got the cars, two beautiful lands cruisers… I’m in the old girl, the big petrol guzzling beast, which when she changes into third you can feel the planet warm up, but what power! We are now learned scholars of satellite modems and have looked for spark plugs and shopped, packed and repacked. We met the last crews, full of knowledge and advice, hopefully in 12 weeks I’ll be handing over with similar nostalgia and just as many stories. The last two days have been a bit of fun, getting used to the cars and finding our feet, our plan and our supplies. After hearing the stories from Mike and Mark we’re in for one hell of a ride! Ghana has given us a welcome and warm reception, we’re happy and raring to get some mapping started, so here we go off to map wild areas in African hinterland…life couldn’t be better.
Don Post 1: From Ghana to Benin
Aloha everybody, a word from the West! Getting time to write this blog has been a lot harder than I thought it would be. So far we have been on the move a lot, usually arriving in camps quite late in the day. It’s easy to get sucked in the evening camp routine and data entry and forget about writing things down. Beers are also nice. Anyway, this is a basic summary of what we got up to in Ghana, Togo and Benin. It’s a bit long, will try to keep it shorten next time.
I arrived at Accra international on time at 03:30 on Friday morning and found a taxi driver named Charles holding a ‘dontye’ sign waiting to take me to the hostel. Naturally he thought my name was “dontye”. I didn’t fight him on this, because it sounded cool the way he pronounced it. The next morning at the hostel/guesthouse we all had breakfast together and chatted with Mike and Mark, the two guys who have just finished a 30 day leg in Ghana. When I say we, I mean Greg, Chris, Sebaz and me (henceforth know as ‘we’). We spend the next two days prepping cars and planning routes for our leg. We also found some time to go walkies around the outskirts of Accra, chatting to some people and trying out the local beer. Luckily there were no major mechanical problemos with the cars so the preparation all went smoothly. If there were any problems I would generally fix it and explain to Chris how cars worked.
We hit the town (Accra central baby!) on Friday night after having some supper with March (the director of MAPA project) and the teams who handed over the vehicles to us. Nightlife in Accra is good fun, and it would have been cool to spend some more time there. Chris had some adventures but I’ll leave that for him to tell. Basically he fell in an open drain, or “poofiesfontain” if you will.
On Monday we left Accra and headed to west to Kokrobite beach which is a very similar setup to Tofu in Mozambique. Loads of tourists, nice beaches, outdoor bars, and tasty beers. On the way there we stopped by Jamestown to check out the harbour market and the lighthouse. Jamestown is packed with people and the harbour market was mad. Good times though. It was in Kokrobite that I realized that Chris is worse than me when it comes to loosing things. He lost the cars keys on the beach and a bunch of other stuff which were all returned to us later that day. Sometimes I give him things, watched him put it down, then I take it back and ask him where it is. He then missions off for 30 min trying to find it. After a night in Kokrobite we headed west to cape coast and did some of the tourist stuff and saw the slave posts. We went on a tour and saw the Door of No Return, hectic stuff. I would write more about this but I’m rushing thorough this blog at the moment so I’m not going to. That night we stayed at a campsite right on a beach lined by palm trees near the town of Almino. Such a cool place and it blows my mind that it is not more popular with tourists, or even with locals. Ghana is so accessible, people are relaxed and getting around is easy.
By now we were used to the cars and starting to get a hang of knowing where everything was. The first stop on out mapping itinerary was Keta wetland, an IBA on the Ghana coast close to the Benin border. So we headed back East toward Keta the next morning and arrived only after dark because we stopped in Accra again to buy some food. Had to do a massive repack of the cars in the parking lot of Accra Mall to fit everything in, but we succeeded and people cheered and gave us money.
In a guesthouse just outside Keta I woke up early to some terrible news. Chris had diarrhoea. How did I know? Well we shared a room with an open plan toilet - interesting design. This meant that I woke up to him saying “sorry don, sorry don”, while laughing and sharting. Hectic times! But I couldn’t stop laughing either which meant I didn’t get anymore sleep. Later Chris and me (Team 2, AKA TeamBetterThanTeam3) cruised the roads on the west of the Keta lagoon, while Greg and Sebaz (Team 3) mapped the coastal side. The wetland area was great but not less accessible than we had hoped. We all met up again just before the Togo border, filled the cars, and then learnt how to do the border shuffle.
Togo is obviously poorer than Ghana, and the Togo immigration buildings are nothing more than wooden huts, but with no walls. So basically just roofs. Nice roof though. We drove through Togo in about two hours, and then hit the Benin border. For those of you who like titbits of information, Togo and Benin are “the home of voodoo”… that’s all I have. Togo had some awesome beeches, and it would have been cool to spend more time there, but it had been almost a week now and we had not done much mapping of protected areas yet so we had to get moving. We improved or border shuffle at the Benin border, got into Benin in the late evening, and stayed in a campsite called “Grand popo” or “big bum”, right on the beach in Benin. That night I went down to the beach pretty late for a beer and ended up watching some guys doing a voodoo ceremony/meeting under a full moon. Not something I ever thought I would see I my life, so it was a great experience !
I really liked Benin, especially the clothes. The guys there where the most colourful shirts ever, some even wear the matching pants. Very tropical – classic stuff. Benin is also packed with motorbikes, and traffic is crazy but good fun to watch. Stopped in a Market in Cotonou, the capital of Benin, and I tried my hand at bartering in French. Chris watched me go and was dying laughing because apparently I become Chinese when I speak to French people. I disagree, I feel I was more understood very well by the locals, unlike Chris who listens to French tapes in the car all day. Fude fafa! Anyway we hit the Nigerian border later that afternoon and it was not as hectic as we had expected., all though it did look like a bit of a war zone. By now our border shuffle is not bad and we got through without too much hassle. Then began the madness that is Nigeria. But that will come some other time.
Later daters.
Dontye
I arrived at Accra international on time at 03:30 on Friday morning and found a taxi driver named Charles holding a ‘dontye’ sign waiting to take me to the hostel. Naturally he thought my name was “dontye”. I didn’t fight him on this, because it sounded cool the way he pronounced it. The next morning at the hostel/guesthouse we all had breakfast together and chatted with Mike and Mark, the two guys who have just finished a 30 day leg in Ghana. When I say we, I mean Greg, Chris, Sebaz and me (henceforth know as ‘we’). We spend the next two days prepping cars and planning routes for our leg. We also found some time to go walkies around the outskirts of Accra, chatting to some people and trying out the local beer. Luckily there were no major mechanical problemos with the cars so the preparation all went smoothly. If there were any problems I would generally fix it and explain to Chris how cars worked.
We hit the town (Accra central baby!) on Friday night after having some supper with March (the director of MAPA project) and the teams who handed over the vehicles to us. Nightlife in Accra is good fun, and it would have been cool to spend some more time there. Chris had some adventures but I’ll leave that for him to tell. Basically he fell in an open drain, or “poofiesfontain” if you will.
On Monday we left Accra and headed to west to Kokrobite beach which is a very similar setup to Tofu in Mozambique. Loads of tourists, nice beaches, outdoor bars, and tasty beers. On the way there we stopped by Jamestown to check out the harbour market and the lighthouse. Jamestown is packed with people and the harbour market was mad. Good times though. It was in Kokrobite that I realized that Chris is worse than me when it comes to loosing things. He lost the cars keys on the beach and a bunch of other stuff which were all returned to us later that day. Sometimes I give him things, watched him put it down, then I take it back and ask him where it is. He then missions off for 30 min trying to find it. After a night in Kokrobite we headed west to cape coast and did some of the tourist stuff and saw the slave posts. We went on a tour and saw the Door of No Return, hectic stuff. I would write more about this but I’m rushing thorough this blog at the moment so I’m not going to. That night we stayed at a campsite right on a beach lined by palm trees near the town of Almino. Such a cool place and it blows my mind that it is not more popular with tourists, or even with locals. Ghana is so accessible, people are relaxed and getting around is easy.
By now we were used to the cars and starting to get a hang of knowing where everything was. The first stop on out mapping itinerary was Keta wetland, an IBA on the Ghana coast close to the Benin border. So we headed back East toward Keta the next morning and arrived only after dark because we stopped in Accra again to buy some food. Had to do a massive repack of the cars in the parking lot of Accra Mall to fit everything in, but we succeeded and people cheered and gave us money.
In a guesthouse just outside Keta I woke up early to some terrible news. Chris had diarrhoea. How did I know? Well we shared a room with an open plan toilet - interesting design. This meant that I woke up to him saying “sorry don, sorry don”, while laughing and sharting. Hectic times! But I couldn’t stop laughing either which meant I didn’t get anymore sleep. Later Chris and me (Team 2, AKA TeamBetterThanTeam3) cruised the roads on the west of the Keta lagoon, while Greg and Sebaz (Team 3) mapped the coastal side. The wetland area was great but not less accessible than we had hoped. We all met up again just before the Togo border, filled the cars, and then learnt how to do the border shuffle.
Togo is obviously poorer than Ghana, and the Togo immigration buildings are nothing more than wooden huts, but with no walls. So basically just roofs. Nice roof though. We drove through Togo in about two hours, and then hit the Benin border. For those of you who like titbits of information, Togo and Benin are “the home of voodoo”… that’s all I have. Togo had some awesome beeches, and it would have been cool to spend more time there, but it had been almost a week now and we had not done much mapping of protected areas yet so we had to get moving. We improved or border shuffle at the Benin border, got into Benin in the late evening, and stayed in a campsite called “Grand popo” or “big bum”, right on the beach in Benin. That night I went down to the beach pretty late for a beer and ended up watching some guys doing a voodoo ceremony/meeting under a full moon. Not something I ever thought I would see I my life, so it was a great experience !
I really liked Benin, especially the clothes. The guys there where the most colourful shirts ever, some even wear the matching pants. Very tropical – classic stuff. Benin is also packed with motorbikes, and traffic is crazy but good fun to watch. Stopped in a Market in Cotonou, the capital of Benin, and I tried my hand at bartering in French. Chris watched me go and was dying laughing because apparently I become Chinese when I speak to French people. I disagree, I feel I was more understood very well by the locals, unlike Chris who listens to French tapes in the car all day. Fude fafa! Anyway we hit the Nigerian border later that afternoon and it was not as hectic as we had expected., all though it did look like a bit of a war zone. By now our border shuffle is not bad and we got through without too much hassle. Then began the madness that is Nigeria. But that will come some other time.
Later daters.
Dontye
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Hello from Nigeria!
So I finally got some internet time here in Calabar on the eastern coast of Nigerian. Its just after 11:00 here and Greg and me have been through a cool 32 roadblocks. Getting anywhere takes forever.
Chris and I have written some award winning literature on Ghana, Togo and Benin that we will post tonight hopefully. We do not have access to internet usually but only a single email address, thats why we have not posted anything yet. So far we have seen and some "crazy cool" things, some more crazy than cool, but more about that later.
Anyway will get some posts up soon. By the way Chris was the first one to get the poops.
bye bye, Don
Chris and I have written some award winning literature on Ghana, Togo and Benin that we will post tonight hopefully. We do not have access to internet usually but only a single email address, thats why we have not posted anything yet. So far we have seen and some "crazy cool" things, some more crazy than cool, but more about that later.
Anyway will get some posts up soon. By the way Chris was the first one to get the poops.
bye bye, Don
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Check Check... one two
So we off in a couple hours now, the other guys (Chris, March and Greg) are boarding as I write this! Whether that is true or not I don't know, but it sounded dramatic so I wrote it. I leave at 23:30 tonight on an air Namibia chartered jet. Sebastian arrived in Ghana couple days ago to sort out his Nigerian visa. As far as I know we will be in Accra till Monday at least.
Anyway if you plan on following this blog, brace yourself for some terrible spelling and some classic reporting. The only thing saving my spelling now is google Chrome. Keep it sticky.
Don out!
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